She blinked at him. ‘I think it does.’
He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. Very softly. Three times. She didn’t stop him. He rolled her onto him and held her there. She gave him her weight, tucked her chin into his neck, so they were warm and tangled. It was sunny, maybe the warmest day of the year so far. Shadows lengthened across the grass as Monday lunchtime turned into Monday afternoon.
‘What will they do to me?’ she said eventually.
‘Talk to you, that’s all.’
‘Where?’
‘At the police station.’
‘What will I tell them?’
‘The truth.’
‘I want to speak to my mum.’ She rolled off, picked up her coat and bag. ‘My dad won’t be home from work yet.’
‘I’ll take you.’
‘No, I’ll walk. I need time to get used to the idea.’
‘Ellie, you don’t have to do this by yourself.’
She smiled wearily at him. ‘Go back to work, Mikey, I don’t want you to lose your job as well. I’ll walk along the river, so no one sees me. Don’t worry, I can follow it all the way home.’
He walked with her down to the path. It was cooler closer to the water. There were some ducks. A swan curved its neck down to feed. They stopped to watch.
After a few moments, Ellie took a breath and turned to him. ‘Can I have a hug goodbye?’
He held out his arms and she gave him a strange half‑hug. It was clumsy and sad and not what he thought was going to happen at all.
‘I’m going,’ she said, ‘before I change my mind.’
He looked for fear in her eyes, but it seemed to have gone, replaced by a strange calm.
Forty‑one
Ellie walked up from the river, through the gate and across the lawn. Her mum was kneeling on a bit of old blanket, pushing a trowel into the flowerbeds.
Tell her, tell her, you have to tell her.
She sat back on her heels when she saw Ellie. ‘You’re home early.’ She wiped the sweat away from her forehead with her sleeve. Her gloves were all muddy and she had bits of leaf in her hair. ‘Or have I lost track of time? I’ve been out here most of the day and it’s been fantastic. Feels like summer now, wouldn’t you say? Look at all these green shoots thrusting up.’
Ellie feigned interest, because this would please her mum, because it would delay things, because words were hard to find.
‘Those are tulips,’ Mum said, smiling, ‘and those pink ones are bergenia.’
Ellie squatted on the grass. ‘I need to speak to you.’
‘You’ll get wet sitting there.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘How was school? Was it OK?’
‘It was fine. I had Maths revision.’
‘Poor baby. I don’t envy you that.’
She turned back to her digging. ‘I’ve been tying things back and weeding. Look, I even planted some bulbs.’
When breaking bad news you’re supposed to ask the victim to sit down so they don’t bang their head when they collapse. You’re supposed to provide sweet tea, a blanket and a cool hand on the forehead. But what do you do when the person refuses to listen?
‘Mum, where’s Tom?’
‘Up in his room, I expect.’
‘And Dad?’
‘Norwich, trying to find a new law firm.’
Ellie took a breath. ‘So, did you hear me? Can I talk to you?’
‘I heard.’
But she didn’t stop digging. How easy just to listen to the sharp clang of the trowel hitting stone and to watch as a soft pile of mud and weeds landed neatly in the bucket. How easy to go indoors and get some milk, eat a biscuit, watch TV.
‘Can we go and sit on the bench?’
Mum frowned, pulled her coat firmly across her chest. ‘Is this about yesterday?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can it wait until Dad gets home?’
‘Not really.’
Her mum refused the bench, sat instead on the swing behind the walnut tree. Strange to see her there, like a girl, with her feet tucked under. Ellie sat on the grass and watched her pull on the ropes and lean back, her hair flying.
‘I used to love swinging when I was a child,’ Mum said. ‘Nothing could make me dizzy.’
Ellie was aware her mouth was very dry, like she’d walked through a sandstorm. ‘I’ve got something important to tell you.’
‘I think people lose something to do with simple happiness when they grow up,’ Mum said.
‘Please, Mum, listen. I have to go to the police station.’
Mum scraped her feet along the ground to bring her to a stop. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m going to make a new statement.’
‘You’ve made a statement.’
‘It was a lie.’
Mum shook her head very slowly. ‘I’m calling your father.’
‘Please don’t.’
‘You’re not talking to anyone until you’ve spoken to him.’
‘I am. The police are coming for me.’
‘Coming for you? They can’t just turn up and pluck little girls from their homes.’
The storm had come. It was right here, right now, and there was nothing to be done but face it. Ellie felt strangely calm, as if she’d stepped outside her own body and was looking down at herself.
‘Everything was confusing that night, Mum – what happened, what I saw, what I thought was true. When Tom got arrested, I didn’t want to get him in trouble, so I said I didn’t see anything. I thought it would all work out.’
Her mum strained forward on the swing. ‘It will work out. Last night, we sat round the table talking about it.’
‘It’s too late for that – new lawyers, shoes, clothes – it’s all rubbish. Listen to me, Mum, just for a minute. Please, will you do that?’
Her mother nodded, tears filling her eyes.
‘I told myself it was Karyn’s fault – she was drunk, she’s a liar, she’s jealous of us because she lives on a rubbish estate, she’s mad at Tom because he didn’t want to go out with her – anything I could think of. I made her a monster and I don’t even know her. I’ve only spoken to her twice.’ Ellie looked across the lawn. A blackbird was tugging a worm out of a flowerbed. A shaft of sun hit the very top of the trees by the fence. ‘It’s been doing my head in trying to find ways to keep Tom innocent and I can’t do it any more. I need to tell the truth now.’
Her mum had her hands over her mouth, struggling against it, maybe trying to come up with some new way of defending her son. Ellie understood. She’d done it herself for weeks.
‘Mum?’ Ellie whispered into the silence. ‘I think that was a knock on the door.’
They both listened. It came again. It had an urgent insistence to it.
Mum grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t answer it.’
‘I have to.’
‘You don’t have to do anything. Ignore them. They’ll go away.’
Ellie doubted that. They were more likely to batter down the door or smash their way in through the windows. In her experience, the angrier people got, the worse it always was in the end.
‘I’m going to answer it.’
The man and woman standing on the front lawn didn’t have uniforms, or truncheons or handcuffs. They didn’t even have a police car, just a plain white estate parked in the lane. They looked mildly surprised to see Ellie as she came round the side of the house and walked towards them, but covered it up with quick smiles.
‘Hello there,’ the woman said. ‘Remember us? We met a few weeks ago. I’m Detective Thomas, and this is my colleague, Detective Bryce.’
The man gave her a cheery wave.
The woman said, ‘We’d like to ask you a few more questions, Ellie. We’d like you to come to the station with us, if that’s possible.’
But before she could answer, Tom opened the front door and came out onto the step. He was wearing a vest and running shorts and his hair was sticking up. ‘What’s going on?’
Ellie shook her head, desperate for him to go back in the house.
‘What’s happening, Ellie?’
But how could she say? If she even contemplated for a second what her speaking to the police meant to him, she’d falter. Maybe the woman detective knew this, because she took Ellie’s elbow and steered her gently towards the gate. ‘This way, please.’